


modern art

by checkthemargins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not exactly a dance floor, but Louis's done a lot more with a lot less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	modern art

**Author's Note:**

> A little snapshot AU ficlet that I found in my documents from 2012! I'm a little fond of it. :)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** 300000% false.

**modern art**

Zayn is studying business, but he has a lot of acquaintances in the university art scene. As his best mate, Louis spends more hours than he'd really care to count at shitty art shows in abandoned warehouses, London alleyways, and the occasional indie gallery. Tonight, he's in the latter, holding a mojito in one hand and an introductory brochure for the showing that he's folded into a paper plane in the other. The nose of the plane is crumpled, because Louis has hit Zayn in the head with it four times.

Zayn's cologne smells really good, so Louis shifts a bit closer to him. They're in front of a canvas big enough for he and Zayn, and probably Niall and three of his guitars to fit in comfortably. Louis closes his lips around the straw in his cocktail and takes a long drink. His trousers are wool and scratching his legs uncomfortably. He shimmies a little to help.

"What're you doing?" Zayn asks him.

"I'm looking. I'm—" he pauses, and then takes a step back. "This is a painting of a vagina."

Zayn hums agreeably. "Yeah."

"A giant vagina, ejaculating...are those gummy bears?"

"I don't think they're gummy bears."

"They look like gummy bears."

"I think they're like, flowers. Or something. And it's not ejaculating. It's like, birthing."

"Gross," says Louis.

"I don't know. It's like, earth. Mother Earth."

Louis tilts his head further. "Maybe it's Noah's Ark."

"What?"

"Those are bears, mate."

"They're _not_ be..." Zayn gets up on his toes and leans in closer. "All right, maybe they're bears."

"A vagina birthing bears and flowers and like, squid," Louis affirms. He scratches his jaw and takes another sip of his drink. He pocketed a few of the hors d'oeuvres circling around the gallery and he digs one out to pop into his mouth. It's something wrapped in bacon and delicious. Zayn gives him a look. Louis finishes chewing and swallows. "What?"

"You don't have weasel those away like a little thief," Zayn tells him. "There are people with trays."

"Your mum is people with trays," says Louis. "I'm poor and underfed."

"Uh huh," Zayn shoots back. He pokes Louis in the belly and Louis raises an eyebrow in his direction. 

"Are you quite finished?"

Zayn pretends to consider it, and Louis watches him expectantly. Zayn is really pretty, like sculpted by Michelangelo pretty, except with a bigger dick and longer eyelashes. He's rocking this sort of fluffy, mussed up hair and slight stubble along his jaw ling thing lately, and it's working for him. Louis is probably doomed to look like Peter Pan his whole life, so he thinks it's good he has a friend that looks like Zayn to balance him out. Zayn is shy around new people, too, which lets Louis shine because Louis is the least shy person in the world. They make a good team.

"I reckon I am," Zayn answers. Louis pops another bacon thing into his mouth and smiles toothily around it.

"Zayn, Zayn!" someone calls from across the room. It's a girl with pink hair and a pretty smile. Zayn turns round to look at her and grins back.

"Go on," Louis tells him, "your public awaits."

"I'll be just a minute," says Zayn.

Louis watches him strut away, feeling overwhelmingly fond of him, and pulls out his phone. He has a missed call from his dad and an email advertising a natural supplement to make his cock bigger. Louis spreads his feet a bit and looks down at his crotch curiously. He's wearing boxer-briefs that have shamrocks on them. They're a good pair, show off his backside. He wiggles his bum a bit, imagining what his crotch would look like in these trousers if he took the supplements. They're a bit snug around the family jewels as it is.

"Hey Lou," says a familiar voice behind him. Louis freezes, feels his ears and cheeks start to burn almost immediately. He clears his throat importantly and turns around. It's Harry, from his Russian literature class. Harry is tall and lanky and gorgeous, with these dark curls and this smile and these pink lips and big green eyes. He's wearing skinny jeans and suede Chelsea boots and a black blazer over a blue shirt, the buttons shiny. He has his hands in his pockets, and he's smiling, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Louis smiles right back.

"Young Harold!" he cries. "You're looking quite dapper."

"You too," says Harry. He points at Louis's shoes, which are black and white oxfords, tuxedo patterned. "Your feet look like little gentlemen."

Harry is weird, in all the best ways. Louis hums agreeably. "Yeah, exactly. S'what I was going for. What brings you here?"

"Here to the gallery? My friend has some photography showing," Harry explains, waving a hand lazily toward some corner of the room that Louis doesn't bother to tear his eyes away from Harry's face to look at. "To here specifically--" He points at the floor between them. "--I was coming to see why you were shaking your arse under a painting of a vagina-shaped candy bowl."

Louis looks back around at the painting, frowning. "They look like gummy bears, right?"

"Yeah, and gummy worms," says Harry, pointing at the things Louis took for squid tentacles between the open thighs near the bottom.

"Hm," says Louis. He shrugs. "I was overcome with the need to dance."

Harry laughs, his face lighting up with it. Louis flashes a sharp smile, sets his drink and folded brochure against the wall on the floor, and stands back up to take Harry's hand hand, tugging him in. He puts one of Harry's hands on his hip and threads the fingers of the other through his own.

"Erm..." Harry says.

"Do you know how to waltz?" Louis asks him.

"No."

"I'll teach you."

Louis counts them off, and takes lead. Harry is a rubbish dancer. Louis isn't _good_ , per se, but he has a modicum of rhythm that he can tap into. Harry's arms are noodly and he's incapable of moving his feet in a timely manner. He steps on Louis's toes four times and says, "Sorry" each time. Louis laughs at him openly until Harry pushes him away a bit and lifts their joint hands up over his head, guiding Louis in a graceful pirouette into his chest. There's some polite applause from the small group of people they've apparently attracted. Harry blushes and ducks his head and Louis taps a finger under his chin.

"You're absolute shit at this, love," he says kindly.

Harry snorts. "I never said I was good at it. I didn't know there'd be dancing. I just came to look at pretty pictures."

Louis sweeps a dramatic arm out to present the vagina candy bowl bear painting again. "You've found the prettiest in the room, dear sir."

"Yeah, reckon I have." Harry grins at him, dimples dug into his cheeks. He's just looking at Louis. Louis glances away, trying not to smile and failing, stomach fluttering up in his throat. Harry tilts his head back to their spot of open floor. "Another dance?"

"There's no music," Louis says dubiously.

Harry scoffs. "Since when has that stopped you?" 

He's all hopeful expression and dimples pushed into his cheeks when he offers his hand, and in the face of a smile that sweet, Louis really has no choice but to take it.

 

_the end._


End file.
